Legend
by Starkiller
Summary: Caught between two feuding Kingdoms & the imperative task of rescuing a Princess, Obi Wan is forced to enlist the unlikely aid of a young tavern boy, Anakin. AU featuring the cast of Star Wars set in a medieval world. Ani x Pad, slight Obi x OC
1. Once Upon a Time

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A/N: Loosely based on the Scottish Wars of Independence (**_1286 - 1328_**: the time of Robert the Bruce, Kind Edward & William Wallace if you care to know ), Legend is my re-envisioning of the Star Wars prequels in a medieval 'fantasy' world. Many other classic famous tales of fantasy-fiction and historical events are intertwined with this tale. Expect pirates, dragons, Knights, vagabonds and rambunctious Parisian brothels ;

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Main Characters (for the first few chapters at least) Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Asajj Ventress, Kit Fisto, Qui-Gon Jinn, Siri Tachi, Emperor Palpatine, Count Dooku, Darth Maul

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Note: I have posted this before but since then I've made a few minor but very important changes to the plot so I decided to start again.

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Summary: Anakin Skywalker is the unlikely hero who finds himself caught between two feuding Kingdoms and the set task of rescuing a fair Princess.

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Legend  
Prologue

November 21st 1489, King Amidala lay still as stone upon his deathbed.

Descended from a line of great Kings stretching back one thousand years to the Bronze Age, the Kingdom of Naboo had been ruled under King Amidala's order for near 80 cycles. Aided by the philosophical council of _Guardians_, Amidala became legendary as a wise and noble Sovereign and Naboo prospered and flourished under his rule. With his devastating passing the crown fell to his young daughter, Padmé Amidala, _the Maid of Naboo_.

This girl, who was less than 6 years of age, would create many problems for the Naboo; she was far too young to rule by herself. The Guardians would have to rule the Kingdom until she was old enough. More importantly, she was a girl and many believed only a man could govern. A _Maid of Naboo_ could not be expected to lead an army into battle if need be. Eventually mistrust began to spread across the land and the Guardians were overthrown. Unsure as to who should rule in the young Princess's place Civil war threatened to break out, many arguing whether or not King Amidala's heir should ever become Queen.

As the years passed a distraught Count Dooku wrote to Emperor Palpatine who ruled the grand Kingdom of Coruscant across the seas. Neither friend nor foe, Naboo and Coruscant were reserved neighbours, never meddling in one another's business. However, the gravity of the situation at hand begged aid of the wise Emperor.

A treaty was forged between the two Kingdoms and the Count promised the young Princess's hand in marriage on the eve of her 17th birthday to the Emperor's son. The Naboo were delighted when they received word of this possible unity. Coruscant was the most powerful Kingdom in the world with a formidable ruler who would cease the conflict in their country.

However, the Emperor had plans of his own for the Naboo.

Criticism is very much appreciated. I've tried very hard to successfully edit this fic and I'd love to hear people's opinion!  
Thanks (Happy Hogmanay!)


	2. The King's Ransom

**Disclaimer:** Nothing pertaining to George Lucas' Star Wars, characters locations etc, belongs to me.

**Legend**  
Chapter One: The King's Ransom

The flame in the lamplight flickered like a ghost in the waning dusk. It was a bitterly cold November night. The streets were silent, candles dim, yet Anakin Skywalker knew as he sped down the snow speckled back streets that he was nearing a warm, safe haven. Keeping a sharp eye open for any peculiar folk the young man cautiously darted in and out of shadowy doorways, his slim form making it easy to hide in the late hours of the raw night.

He wrinkled his nose in the air, searching out the delightful smells of hot stew his Master's Tavern had to offer. The spicy smells made his mouth water and his eyes burn as they came wafting down the street to greet him. Anakin put on an extra burst of speed as he skidded around the last corner with a large keg of ale tucked firmly in his arms. Never had he been so happy to see the _King's Ransom_, Watto's dank and grimy excuse for an Inn.

Nevertheless, whatever he thought of the place on nights such as this the _King's Ransom_ certainly pulled in the customers; as was the reason Anakin had been ordered to collect another keg of ale from the only other cellar in the neighbouring village.

Nudging the door open with his elbow Anakin shook the little white specks of snow from his sandy coloured hair and grumbled impatiently as he squeezed past a particularly large, pink outlander with four immense, swollen arms; each holding an equally large tankard of ale. But the young tavern boy's irritated curses were quickly drowned out by the uproarious cries of laughter and merriment. The _King's Ransom_ was crowded with hundreds of rosy cheeked patrons. Anakin had never seen so many people packed into such a small place before.

Master Watto had informed him earlier that they would have many travellers passing through the village on their way to Capital City for the Winter Festival. The way things were going Anakin wouldn't have been surprised if they made their usual profit for an entire year in one week!

As he wove his way through the bustling crowds toward the bar Anakin noted with interest that his master had invested some of his profits in hiring more staff. He watched with an eager eye as the waiting girls flitted in amongst the tables serving drinks with an eager smile and a flirtatious wink.

Upon reaching his destination he found his mother working hard, desperately filling mugs to the brim from a large cask of foaming ale. Shmi Skywalker was a slim, rosy-cheeked woman with dusky skin and warm brown eyes to match her equally warm and kind-hearted temperament. She kept her long dark hair wrapped up in a tight bun and tucked neatly beneath a white cap.

Anakin sneaked behind her back and closed his icy fingers over her shoulders. She jumped at the sudden chill and snapped her head towards the bar. A tender smile instantly lit Shmi's eyes as she recognised her son.

"Annie, good grief! I was beginning to get concerned," she said.

Anakin set the keg of ale down on the bar and swung his legs up and over to the other side. "You shouldn't worry so much," he assured her and flashed a cocky smile.

"Are there lines appearing already?" Shmi chuckled and set two more mugs filled to the brim with ale down on the tavern bar's worn surface. "I hope you didn't get into another scuffle with Greedo again. You have to control your temper Anakin."

Anakin grinned shamelessly. "No fights tonight," he said while heaving a fresh keg of ale up onto the shelf, "I met with Kit over in the next village. He caught a Salamander down by the brook today but it wouldn't light up," he screwed his face up and sulked. "I reckon his flame went out on the count of it being so cold."

"Annie, ma boy! Where 'ave you been?" the coarse, heavily accented voice of the Tavern Master called to him. Anakin turned begrudgingly towards the crude, loudmouthed Toydarian hovering above the bar, his tiny wings flapping fiercely. Watto was a crook, an avid gambler and a shameless cheat. He also happened to be the only father figure Anakin had ever known and however reluctant he was to admit it he was quite fond of the shrewd, foul-smelling creature.

"I've a' been waiting for a whole hour!" Watto snapped gesturing wildly with his stubby little arms. "How do you think I'm meant to deal with a crowd of angry people _waving_ their empty mugs in my face, uh?!" Continuing to rant in his fierce alien tongue, Watto's little wings carried him to the new keg of ale where he quickly began pouring drinks for his eager customers.

A smile of amusement crossed Anakin's face when he caught a few curses from the Toydarian's spiteful tongue, but his mother sent him a warning glance, fearing they'd soon be out of a job. Watto was especially testy that night as more travelers from all over the shire poured through the little doorway of the _King's Ransom_. It was well after 5 o'clock in the morning before their customers stumbled one by one out of the door again.

Shmi had never been so happy to hear the chimes above the door ring as she watched the very last patron stagger away into the bitterly cold morning. She dropped herself into a tatty old armchair by the hearth and heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

"My goodness that was a long night," she said and took a long sip from a steaming hot mug of tea.

"Aye, and no doubt it'll be a hard one tomorrow me thinks," Watto replied with a slight groan as he rested his aching muscles in the armchair opposite from her. "You'd better be up for it boy. I don't want no slacking now!" he called to Anakin who was drying mugs as best he could with a sopping wet cloth.

"Yes _master_," he retorted in a mock tone.

"Ah Annie ma boy, we'll make an honest worker out of you yet. Hmm, well perhaps not honest, ah?" he chuckled before taking a long draw from his pipe. "Which reminds me, strange looking fella's been askin' 'bout you."

Shmi's soft brown eyes flew up from the steaming mug, her face a study of concern.

Anakin furrowed his brow. "'bout me? Whatever for?"

"Wanted to talk to you but I say you were gone. Been in here di past few nights," he took a long puff of his pipe before wildly gesturing with it towards a flea-bitten rocking chair in the far corner of the room. "All he do is sit and stare at you. And he only buy one drink every night! One drink! _E chuta ta.._"

Shmi shot a grave look of concern at her son, her dark eyes questioning, but Anakin was utterly baffled. Leaning on the back of a three-legged chair, his clothe slung over his left shoulder, the boy leaned towards Watto and asked, "what did he look like?"

Watto scratched his bristly chin. "Difficult to say. Always wears a cloak. Pointed him out to Gav and he say 'that there outlander, he has Giant's blood'." The Toydarian shook his head and snorted derisively. "Looked like one of dem outlandish cult folk to me; like those _sorcerers_ me thinks." He gave Anakin a piercing glare. "You'd better not be meddlin' in any funny business boy!"

Anakin shook his head and screwed his youthful face up in deep thought. Why would a complete stranger want anything to do with a Tavern boy?

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It was bitterly cold. The forest trees, tall black soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder beneath a pearly white moon, offered little shelter from the icy chill pervading throughout the night. A shadow flitted amongst the firs and closely packed pines, dodging shards of scattered moonlight - all the while skirting the great palace wall ahead, seeking entrance.

The shadow bent low beside a moss-covered stump and listened intently. A beam of moonlight flickered across its features briefly revealing a figure dressed in a long, hooded cloak. Long callused fingers lifted to raise the heavy hood of the cloak, exposing a pair of stormy, intelligent eyes and disheveled, wheat-coloured hair. Unkempt stubble adorned his youthful face.

He waited in the shadows of the soldiers for what seemed like hours before he caught his chance. Slipping out of hiding he crept towards the wall, crouching in the shadow of a balcony high above. He regarded it with interest for a moment, strands of golden-red falling in his eyes. Flexing his fingers the cloaked figure lowered his hands to the ground in a series of peculiar gestures. All of a sudden thousands of little green tendrils shot up from the ground. Through the continued gestures of his hands and fingers the vines scaled the castle wall, twisting and slithering higher and higher until they at last reached the out-cropping balcony. The figure took a fistful of the living rope ladder and gave them a hard tug. When he was positive they could hold his weight he began to scale the castle wall.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Padmé Amidala paced her chambers, pulling her nightdress higher around her slender shoulders and tugging at the lace fretfully.

He was late, but she could not fault him. _That fool risks too much venturing so close to the palace_, she thought despairingly.

Slipping in front of the dresser Padmé contemplated her reflection. The young Maid of Naboo was well into her 16th year and the preordained marriage to Emperor Palpatine's son edged closer with every setting sun. Padmé loved her country dearly and would gladly die for it if need be but fear crept into her heart at the idea of uniting Naboo with the 7th Kingdom of Coruscant. She wished to rule Naboo as a separate Kingdom like her father before her, but the title _Maid of Naboo_ had little political sway in her country. Winning the respect and love of its people had been a tiring and unsuccessful battle over the years. _All because I am a woman_, she thought with bitterness and glared hatefully at her reflection in the looking-glass.

A gentle rapping on the window laced with frost aroused her from her reflection. Padmé darted towards the visitor on the balcony, grinning broadly.

"Master Kenobi, where have you been? My Lord, you had me so worried sir!" she spluttered, grasping his arms, "and you're freezing!"

"You are well guarded my Lady," the Knight retorted, shivering with the cold as he entered her chambers.

"Obi-Wan, I have asked you on countless occasions to address me by my name and only by my name. No man who risks as much as you do need concern himself with proper conduct," Padmé admonished. "Besides, need I remind you are no longer a Guardian of the 2nd Kingdom?" Padmé suddenly flushed with embarrassment. "Oh Obi-Wan, I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend-"

"You didn't," he smiled reassuringly but it did not reach his eyes. His face suddenly grew very grave. "Amidala, the Guardians are being hunted." Obi-Wan's somber grey eyes locked with her own and Padmé could see the hidden grief there. "I fear many have been killed."

The news hit like an icy bucket of water. The young Princess stood very still within the royal chambers but her inner turmoil, conflicting feelings of disbelief and shock, had sorely rocked her. "Oh," she paused and tried again to muster a reply. "I had always thought it impossible to kill a Jedi."

Obi-Wan almost smiled at her naivety; _the Maid of Naboo's_ simple innocence could captivate the weariest of hearts. "If only that were so," he replied.

"I am so sorry," she said, then froze at the sound of heavy footsteps padding through the outside hall, alerting them both to the presence of Palace Guards. He could not risk being caught here.

Obi-Wan turned to Padmé with urgency. "I will do my very best to send word before you depart for Coruscant, but I doubt I'll be able to meet you in person for a long while. There are eyes everywhere and the enemy's proving extremely hard to pinpoint," he paused and added with a grimace, "and to hide from."

"You're leaving already Obi-Wan?" Padmé asked incredulously.

"I'm to meet with Qui-Gon Jinn in Capital City seven days from no," he replied and gave a wry chuckle. "It's a long ride."

"Capital City!" she exclaimed. "But that's miles away!" She quickly silenced her voice at Obi-Wan's stern look.

"We are arranging a secret meeting of the Guardians - what's left of them anyway," Obi-Wan added bitterly. "We plan to ride out for borders of Dagobah to seek the Council of Elders. They'll know what to do." Obi-Wan put his finger to her lips before she could emit another astonished squeal. "Yes it's far, but are options right now are few."

Padmé squared her shoulders. "Master Kenobi, I cannot go through with this union," her clear gaze momentarily faltered, "not if it means endangering my people."

The look of distress upon her pretty features pained Obi-Wan and he suddenly wished Qui-Gon were here in his place. Obi-Wan had a limited grasp on the Living Force and was not so highly adept at consoling people as his former Master.

"The Jedi have loyally served your Kingdom for a millennium my Lady, and we do not plan on abandoning you now. We will unravel this mystery," he caught her slender shoulders in his hands. "You must trust me your Highness."

Padmé's eyes fell away and her frail shoulders slipped from his grasp. For a long while she made no reply and he wondered if fear and disbelief had so troubled her that she did not know what to say. The Maid of Naboo was still so very young for the role she had to play in the world.

At long last he spoke. "Do you trust me, your Highness?"

Padmé smiled. "Of course I do. I've known you all my life, Obi-Wan. I know you'll do whatever is in your power to bring Palpatine to justice. Trust has nothing to do with my concerns. I'm afraid for you Obi-Wan; afraid for my people and, ashamed as I am to admit it, afraid for myself."

Obi-Wan returned her smile. "The road is long and troubled by the wolves that run," he tilted her chin upwards, "but in that we can succeed."

Her reply was nothing more than the faintest murmur in his ear. "My courage old friend, and my spirit, is so much less than it once was. I cannot see as my father once did. I have neither his confidence nor his rationality of mind. How am I to rule a country which has split down the middle?"

"Your eyes see perfectly, Padmé. When the time comes you will rule just as your father did," he said and clasped her hands. "Have a little more faith. The Jedi are not beaten down so easily as that."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Trinity Day:** Thank you very much for giving my story a chance, I really appreciate that! I will try my best to keep everything as balanced as I can. My stories (er, my new stories that is - ignore everything else I have on! They're very old) are usually based on or inspired by historical events, different cultures etc; the research is what I enjoy most.

**Padawan Sydney Bristow:** Really? Wow, I've never heard that before. I was always led to believe Naberrie was perhaps a false or middle name. Thank-you very much for the information!

**SoloKenobi:** Haha, glad to have you hooked! I live in Scotland on the west coast (we're the poor buggers getting all the storms) Are you here for a holiday? (if so...why? lol ) I studied the Scottish Wars of Independence in my first year of college and I fell in love with the topic. Hope you're enjoying your class )

**Saber Girls:** Thank you very much, I hope you liked the update!


	3. The Count of Hearts

**A/N:** Thank-you for the great reviews! I'm really happy, Legend has been nominated for 4 awards on Jedi net. I'm crossing my fingers... wish me good luck! (I could seriously kiss the people who nominated me!).

**Legend**  
The Count of Hearts

Obi-Wan Kenobi tore across glen and dale, racing the northerly wind on his tireless steed. The lush green grasses of Naboo which shimmered with silver frost upon hill and dale were but a grey blur to the focused beast, its four sturdy legs pumping furiously across the land. But the Knight which the beast ferried across Naboo's wild lands was aware of everything around them, though to any onlooker his stormy eyes were fixed only on the horizon ahead.

Capital City was many days journey from the grand palace of Theed. By the second night they had escaped the tangle of Thornburry Forest where the twisted labyrinth of trees loomed overhead, their branches stalking them in the dead of night. On the third day they entered the land of a thousand waterfalls where even the icy chill of Winter could not penetrate the soil and drain the colour from the land. It was the landscape of a midsummer's dream. But Obi-Wan was vigilant as ever, only stopping once to allow Balfour to lap at the cool water and fill his own empty flask at the fishing holes.

The urgency he felt to widen the distance between them and the hungry eyes which traveled behind overcame all thoughts of hunger and desire for rest.

By the end of the fourth day Obi-Wan had ridden to the foot of the Flaming Mountains which marked the border of the 2nd Kingdom. There they lay down in the great shadow of the mountain and rested a few hours, but left long before the sun had a chance to set the heather covered hills on fire with its red glow.

They made quick progress through the range as every path and trail was well known to Obi-Wan, having wandered through these hills on numerous missions with his old mentor. As the sun set on the fifth day they were clear of the Mountains.

A brisk wind swept up Obi-Wan's cloak and pulled at the loose strands of his hair. Balfour whinnied impatiently and stamped his two toed hooves. Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in concern as his gaze swept the land before him: an endless scrub of loose rocks, boulders and knotted grass.

"Take a look at that old friend; the Backwater Plains. Slash City lies just to the North," Obi-Wan pointed, stroking Balfour's brow consolingly. "You will never find a more wretched land of scum and villainy. How ironic that it should lie on the doorstep of Naboo."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Important deliberations, arguments and concerns were all debated in the grand Reception Hall of the Imperial Palace set in the heart of Coruscant; like a gleaming black jewel set in the brow of a crown. The decor was elegant and sophisticated in its simplicity. The black marble floor reflected the light from the slender windows which stretched from the floor to where the ceiling curved upwards and disappeared into shadows. The large rectangular room could seat well over a thousand noblemen and foremost leaders of the surrounding Shires.

Yet on this day only one pair of footsteps echoed through the interior of the Reception Hall. The figure strode purposefully down the Hall, his royal cape and chiseled looks accentuating his dignified countenance. Around his neck he wore an odd string bag, the contents of which appeared to writhe and pulsate like the beating of a rabbit's heart.

Count Dooku was once renowned as a man of great virtue and integrity. His great deeds were legend far across the seas and beyond. The people of Naboo had even called for him to rule in the wake of King Amidala's death. However, behind the thin veil of noble charisma, Dooku had been seduced by the Dark Side and his greedy thirst for power held dominance over his need to do just.

In the treaty he had forged between the Kingdoms of Coruscant and Naboo, the Count had made assurances that the ruling of Naboo would fall to him in the unhappy event of the royal bloodline's severance; an event which Dooku also planned to oversee personally. He had plotted with the Palpatine from the very beginning, agreeing that once the Princess left her Kingdom, Naboo had no lawful ruler and therefore could be legally invaded. The Emperor would organize his fleet to start a sea blockade of Naboo, leaving the Kingdom incapable of sending a distress call. The plan was flawless in its simplicity.

As he approached the high throne of the Emperor the Count fell to one knee and humbly bowed his head. "I bring you good news my Master. The Maid of Naboo will arrive in five days time."

After a moment of silence, Dooku glanced up to gauge the Emperor's reaction. He could barely tell where the throne started and the Emperor began, so shrouded in shadows was his host. Palpatine was cloaked in a thick black mantle, which concealed his feeble frame but allowed a pair of sallow yellow eyes to peer out upon onlookers. Upon his head he bore an elaborate black-feathered head-dress in stark contrast to the rest of his simplistic yet efficiently menacing attire. His crooked left hand was coiled around a glossy black cane, the head of which was encrusted with a gleaming red jewel that glinted in the dim light.

Dooku peered up at the intimidating man, attempted to read the expression on his sickly pale face. He was almost relived to see the Emperor's shriveled lips pull back in what he could only assume was a smile.

"You have done well Count Dooku," the thin smile stretched across Palpatine's bony features. "Indeed you have proved yourself a most creditable benefactor. But you do not deserve the title of Sith yet. You have many tasks to complete before then," he said and his smile grew broader still. "Are you yet strong enough to handle the trials I wonder? Will your spine not break and splinter when it comes to the daughter of Naboo's final hour?"

Count Dooku hastily rose to his feet, his icy eyes blazing with determination. "I will prove myself, my lord."

Palpatine emitted a raspy chuckle. "I do hope so my old friend. I do hope so."

The Emperor slithered from his High throne to stand by a tall window overlooking the Capital of the Kingdom, Chrome city. "News has reached me that the Guardians are attempting to rally their forces once more. This cannot happen Dooku. No one can be alerted to our plans."

"They are scattered and few. The Mare-esque have been tracking them for months," Dooku stated with absolute confidence. "Only a handful move freely now, but they are shunned from towns and public houses." Dooku allowed himself a self-satisfactory grin. "Overall our propaganda campaign against the Jedi Order has been very successful. Rumours of a Jedi Temple have proven to be nothing but gossip; old wives tales to scare children and hikers away from the methane swamps which surround an old Goddess shrine in the East on the borders between the Kingdoms of Dagobah and Bespin."

The Emperor's face suddenly clouded and his tone became solemn and severe. "Very well. What about the boy?"

Dooku squared his shoulders and sniffed the air in contempt. "I believe Maul of the Mare-esque, is taking care of him."

"You do not approve?" Palpatine declared, arching an eyebrow with a smile.

Dooku turned his gaze to the floor, choosing his words carefully. "I believe, my lord, that there are alternative options to the Prophesized. The boy hails from the Backwater plains and knows nothing of his heritage, of the Force. He will be no threat to us."

Palpatine bared his sharp, yellowing teeth at the Count. "Throw a toad in boiling water, Count, and he will leap back out again. Leave him in a pan and heat the water slowly, and he will boil alive. I do not plan to wait for the boy to become a man whence he will strike me down. Find Skywalker and bring him to me."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Jelp:** Thank-you very much! You'll find out who he is soon enough...

**SoloKenobi:** Thanks for the review! I live about an hour away from Glasgow. It's a fantastic city, I head out to the Garage & Vegas Nightsa lot.

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed that. If you have any plot ideas, pairings, whatever you'd like to see I'd love to hear about them!


	4. The Constellation

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait. Thank-you very much for the reviews! By the way just to clear this up (as people have asked me in the past) Anakin's around 16 years old.

**Legend  
**The Constellation

Anakin Skywalker leaned against the frost splintered windowpanes of the _King's Ransom_, a distant look in his normally bright eyes. The tips of the Flaming Mountains were blazing in the early morning glow of sunrise, rising like giants from the bare scrub of the Backwater plains. Anakin pressed his nose up against the steamed glass and briefly wondered why the frost never touched the hills there. As a lad he had been so ready to believe the old drifter Kit's outlandish tales of the 100 year battle that had once been fought there. It had been a terrible civil war between the Gungan folk and the people of Naboo and the fires from the conflict still burned to the day.

Or so Kit said. Everyday Anakin was finding it harder to simply believe. He was a young man now and he needed to see for himself. As long as he could remember he had ached for adventure. He wanted more than anything to become a grand explorer and rid himself of the repetitive life he lived in the quaint, backwater village; breaking his back under Watto's apprenticeship.

So caught up in thoughts of grandeur was Anakin that he barely heard his mother arguing with the gruff tavern keeper in the kitchens.

"Watto, I wish you wouldn't worry me," Shmi chided sternly and walked swiftly into the room, her dark eyes scanning for something to clean. "What with all the trouble nowadays I don't want to hear any more talk of outlanders!"

Anakin suddenly looked intrigued. "Has there been any word from the Naboo?"

Watto grunted. "Heh, there were some people in 'ere last night from dee City. They say her royal Princess will be shipped off to Coruscant soon," he chuckled nastily. "Less stuck-up rich girls there are in the world the better if you ask me, ah?"

"Watto!" Shmi reproached. "How can you say such a thing? I feel terribly for that poor girl."

But Anakin had to agree with Watto. The news disappointed him. He wanted to hear about great battles and the impending war between the Pirating Separatists and the Free Kingdoms of the Republic - not the marriage of some snooty girl who had lived in the lap of luxury all her life.

"A little break away from the palace will probably do her Mightiness some good," Anakin blurted out before he could catch himself, causing Watto to choke on his mug of ale with laughter. Shmi sent him a dirty look but before she could begin a telling off a familiar voice rang outside in the frosty morning.

_"Oh, the rare ol' whale,  
mid storm and gale,  
In his ocean home will be!"_

Anakin immediately perked up at the familiar song and deep, coarse voice. He leapt from his place by the window and bolted across the rickety floorboards, narrowly avoiding a sloping table in his hurry. He threw the tavern door open just in time to greet the familiar old seadog swaggering down the cobbled street towards the _King's Ransom_. Kit Fisto was a bizarre looking creature for these Backwater lands with his rubbery green skin and tangle of flexible tentacle tresses which extended from the top of his head.

_"A Giant in might,  
where might is right  
And King of the boundless sea!  
'O! King of the boundless sea!" _

Grinning broadly as his song finished, the hulking great man enveloped Anakin in a tight embrace, nearly squeezing the life out of him. "Annie, my boy! Why you're almost as tall as me lad!"

Anakin was grinning from ear to ear and quivering all over with excitement. "Kit, where 'ave you been? Have you any more maps? Did you find treasure? In your last letter you said you met the _Hutts!_ You weren't pullin' my leg were you?"

Kit gave a hearty chuckle and patted him on the back. "All in good time Annie, all in good time. Now, where's that lovely mother of yours?" Kit's large unblinking eyes turned to the tavern door now occupied by Shmi. Her arms were folded and a frown creased her delicate features.

"Really Kit, what sort of a song is that to sing in the street? You'll scare all our customers away."

"Don't you ah listen to her, Keet! You're welcome 'ere any time!" Watto announced; his little wings beat excitedly as he hovered over to greet his old friend with a hearty slap on the back. "Come inside! Come inside! First drink's on thee house of course!"

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The city's stench was always at its worst by the river. This was ironic, Obi-Wan mused while picking his way across the bustling wooden crossing, as the city had been given life by the river - indeed that was the reason it was there at all. He could only just glimpse the yawning mouth of the river which emptied into a grey sea through the tangle of ropes and masts of anchored ships. He risked a fleeting glance at the oozing brown water below. A floating red garment confirmed Obi-Wan's suspicions; at night this body of water was a watery highway of horror.

Leading a nervous Balfour by the reigns, Obi-Wan descended the wooden bridge and stepped out onto the grimy streets of _Slash City_ – a title earned from the colourful variety of beings it harboured. Most had forgotten the Capital's original title.

Snow trickled down from a leaden grey sky but did not linger for long on the muddy walkways. Before long Obi-Wan's boots were caked in a thick, slushy mud. He grimaced and concentrated on guiding his steed through the bustling throng of people, all intent on keeping their faces covered. They continued sloshing down the main street for a good ten minutes, passing run-down structures surprisingly full of life and warm inns or public houses which beckoned to weary travellers. Fantastic smells wafted through wooden shutters to tempt him - but Obi-Wan wasn't a fool. He had sampled more than a few of these steaming hot dishes, only to wind up thoroughly regretting it a few hours later.

At long last he reached a small cobbled alleyway which opened out onto a quieter, less hostile road. It was mainly a residential area dotted with quiet shops and the occasional food stall. Unfortunately for the cautious Knight he was heading to the one booming pub left in the vicinity.

He stopped before a tatty, run-down structure. Any outsider would think it an insignificant and lackluster little hostelry. But the _White Rabbit_ was a haven to the rats of the underground and those who wished to do business on neutral territory – for no one dared cross the intimidating tavern keeper, Dexter Jettster.

The _White Rabbit_ had always been an important point for the Guardians. Before the dark times one Jedi Knight had taken it upon him to find a safe haven, fearing grave visions of the future. The _White Rabbit_ was now a place of safety and refuge - and more than that, an assembly point.

Above the door a battered sign swung on rusty hinges. Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose at the crude image: a definably female white rabbit, draped in silky purple clothe, held a slender wineglass overflowing with grapes.

Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled hopelessly. _'Only Qui-Gon would choose to rendezvous in such a place.'_

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The orange flames in the fireplace crackled and burned brightly, adding to the atmosphere of the old seadog's stories as the shadows flickered and flashed against the rubbery green skin of his face. Outside the grim winter evening threatened a gale and the fire's warmth was a most welcome substitute from the steely cold.

"So there the Hutt had me, pinned to the mast like a rag doll in one meaty fist!" Kit rasped, his arms flailing wildly as he reached the climax of his story. "I twisted and turned but to no avail! I thought fer sure the blighter 'ad me this time."

Once or twice Watto had been forced to dive quite suddenly in order to catch a falling jug, which had been sent flying by the excitable Nautolan. Shmi stood behind the bar, serving what few customers they had with a stiff demeanour or searching hastily for something to clean. She utterly refused to partake in Kit's courageous stories of high seas and grand adventure.

"Complete and utter waffle," she muttered under her breath.

Kit looked up from his captivated audience. "What was that my dear?" he enquired, smiling sweetly. His black eyes shone with innocent curiosity as if he had missed her comment.

"I don't believe I said a word Kit," she replied and returned his sweet smile. "But if I had I'm sure I would have congratulated you on your fine, _fictional_, tale of high seas and piratery."

Kit turned towards his youthful audience, the single member of which sat cross-legged and wide-eyed on the hearth. He ruffled Anakin's already dishevelled hair. "I'm going to talk to your mother for a while Annie. Sit tight."

"But Kit you haven't told me how you escaped Jencen the Hutt, or how you plundered his treasure-trove," Anakin protested, but his only answer was a backhanded smack across the head from Watto.

"Don't you ah trouble our oldest and dearest customer, you little _toe-rat!_" Watto hissed fiercely in his ear. "Go scrub'a thee steps," he ordered, "Now!"

"But the steps are covered in ice!" Anakin retorted defiantly, irritated and embarrassed at having been reprimanded in front of his greatest hero.

"Then you'da better scrub hard!" Watto barked before twisting around to face Kit with a sugary sweet smile. "Well now Keet, let me get you another drink ay?"

Anakin watched disdainfully as his Master slapped Kit's shoulder, shamelessly attempting to wean more credits from the drifter. With a sigh he grabbed the splintered handle of a mop and a moth-eaten cloth and trudged outside.

His back soon began to ache as he sat hunched over the filthy stone steps leading into the _King's Ransom_. The temperature dropped and the sky overhead began to clear as the evening progressed. He threw away the grimy cloth and fell backwards onto the hard, frosty street. The hard cobbles did little to ease his aching back.

Anakin turned his attention to the sky now littered with stars and sparkling brighter than the gems of Gallinore. He began to pick out constellations, recalling the ancient tales Kit had told him of the Jedi and the Sith. Amongst the stars he envisioned the redemption of Ulic Qel-Droma and the Great Beast Wars in the West. His sharp eyes flicked from constellation to constellation, his mind a whirr as it raced to match the right story to each cluster of stars.

Finally his bright eyes settled upon his favourite constellation; the tragic figure of Nomi Sunrider. He had always thought her beautiful, even amongst the resplendent stars. Nomi had gone against the sacred Jedi code and pledged her love to another Knight, Andur Sunrider. While voyaging through the Hutt infested seas they had been attacked by a pirate ship captained by the ruthless cut-throat pirate Bogga the Hutt. Andur was slain and she carried on to live his dream and became one of the legendary Jedi Knights of the Stone Temple.

As he gazed admirably at the noble constellation of stars, his eyes began to blur and an overwhelming drowsiness suddenly took hold of him. When he tried to clear his vision Sunrider's constellation had collapsed and in its place was the most exceptionally beautiful woman he had ever seen. A simple golden circlet adorned her head and long dark hair spilled over her slender shoulders in loose ringlets. Her warm brown eyes held intelligence and a strong will but Anakin could also see great sadness in her beauty. Curiosity and pity instantly claimed him, but just as suddenly as he'd slipped into the glorious vision was he pulled out again and into the land of the living.

Kit was peering down at him from the doorway. "You alright lad?" he asked, his rubbery green face etched in concern. "You're a bit pale in the face."

Anakin pulled himself up into a sitting position and ran a hand through his dishevelled sandy hair.

"I'm fine Kit. Only I," he paused and suddenly found he could not reply. How would he explain his vision properly without sounding dafter than a dewback? "I lost my footing on the steps and fell," he muttered hurriedly and pretended to turn his full attention on gathering the frost at the foot of the steps. He hated lying to Kit and had the feeling the old vagabond could see through him.

Kit Fisto heaved a heavy sigh and took a seat beside the young man. "Anakin, let me give you a piece of advice. Those stars up there, the acts of bravery, the terrible wars they represent - no one in those stars went looking for trouble. There are many different adventures to be had but a hero does not crave them. He fulfils great deeds because he must, not because he yearns for the praise and glory or the thrill of exploration." Kit laid a hand on Anakin's shoulder and smiled fondly. "You'd better calm that stubborn head of yours if our paths are to run on the same road for a time."

Anakin goggled at the old seadog. Never before had he heard Kit sound so serious, nor look so focused and Anakin felt his admiration for drifting vagabond suddenly escalate.

"Does this mean you'll give me an apprenticeship?" Anakin asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.

Kit laid one large, callous hand on the young man's head and ruffled his hair. "Only if you're up for it lad."

Anakin's cold breath puffed around him in a cloud of excitement. He felt as though his voice had turned to sand and trickled down his throat.

"W-wizard," he rasped.

Kit's only reply was a small, despondent smile and vaguely Anakin wondered why he was so oddly composed. However, nothing could upset the feeling of exhilaration rising inside of him.

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Kit stated. "We'll ride for Capital City to meet some friends of mine."

Anakin nearly choked. "Tomorrow morning!"

"Yes, so you had better be in Watto's good books 'til then Annie. He gave me orders for you to pick up a keg of ale in the next village over. We've had word of a band of potential customers riding through here for Capital city," he grinned at the boy. "So you had better get going."

Nothing in the world could have crushed Anakin's spirit at that moment. All his dreams and questions of the future had been answered. In weeks to come he would be reading maps, battling cut-throat pirates and foul Togorian beasts with sharpened claws as long as his arm. Perhaps they would even come across one of the illustrious Jedi sorcerers, the old Guardians of Naboo.

Soon he was bounding down the cobbled streets and leaving grand visions of the future in his wake. "You have my word Kit, I'll be the greatest apprentice any explorer has ever had," he called over his shoulder. "I promise you won't regret it!"

Kit Fisto watched as the flickering lamplight caught the last glimpse of the boy as he disappeared into darkness. "I know I won't lad."

A harsh wind swept through the streets, chilling the drifter to the bone. The Flaming Mountains were barely visible beneath the pale moonlight. Kit's sharp eyesight peered through the dark beyond the Backwater plains. Something in the hard winter night gave dread to those hills. The softly lit window of the _King's Ransom_ drew his attention to where Shmi Skywalker watched after her son.

_'I know I won't.'_

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**SoloKenobi:** Thanks for the review! Nice to hear you're enjoying Glasgow - if you ever need any free tickets for gigs give us a shout! I have so many great contacts (boo-wahaha)

**Padawan Sydney Bristow**: Thank-you, I'm glad you like it. I get easily bored with writing anything normal, hehe.

**Jelp**: I did have this story posted a while ago but I took it down to do some extreme editing - without realising I could have replaced the chapters and kept my old reviews, _sigh_. It's not finished yet but I do know where it's going. I update whenever I have time but with 2 LJ communities and 2 RPGs to maintain, plus another very _long_ fanfic to write on top of a very busy 'real life', time's not a luxury I can afford. With that said sorry I haven't updated in a while!

**Shike:** Thank-you very much, a fairytale's just what I'm going for. Gotta love a good ol' fashioned adventure!


	5. The Inn of the Ogre

**Author's Note** Here it is, the long awaited fifth (well fourth really) chapter. Thank-you so much for all the encouraging reviews. It took me a while to get this done because half of it was on my old computer and it took a while to get it fixed up. Plus I have bugger all confidence in my writing and I went over this chapter at least 50 times.

"Legend" won the **Best Original Star Wars Fanfiction** and jointly won Best Overall Star Wars Fanfiction over on Jedi net's Fanfiction Awards. So chuffed, I've never won anything like this!

**  
Legend  
**The Inn of the Ogre

The Coruscantian vessel's white sails quivered in the brisk sea breeze which was sweeping into Theed's harbour like an invisible flood-tide. She was a magnificent ship. Every curve, every arch, every cord seemed to boast the strength and elegance of her kingdom. Even the silvery waves on which she glided seemed to rush excitedly up to greet her before shying away.

Padmé squared her shoulders as she stood at the bow of the ship. People were milling around the harbour and pebbled beach, carrying several trunks and crates and barrels of rum and wine. She watched her own trunk carried aboard the ship and felt her heart sink a little. The trunk wasn't packed with anything extraordinarily special, just expensive gowns and jewelry. But they would be her only reminder of Naboo.

Padmé braced her hands over the side of the ship and leant forwards over the water. She took a deep breath of the salty air and for a moment let herself enjoy the feel of the wind as it tumbled through her loose hair. Swirling gold letters caught the corner of her eye and she leant further over the side to read the words scrolled along the side of the ship, repeating them in a breath. "The Dove…"

"Lean any further and you'll be swimming with the fishes," the unmistakable motherly tone of her Handmaiden came from behind her.

Padmé shot her a mischievous smile. "If only. Somehow I feel tackling sharks would be easier than tackling Palpatine."

Sabé leaned over the ship beside her. "The water's so clear," she marveled. "With any luck it will stay as calm for our trip."

"Is Rabé worried?" Padmé chuckled.

Sabé frowned. "It's hardly funny, Padmé. She's terrified. She's convinced we'll either be dragged down to the locker by a sea monster or boarded by pirates."

Padmé sniggered. "Which would you prefer - sea monsters or pirates?"

"Don't you start," Sabé warned. "It's entirely you're fault Rabé reads that nonsense. You always feed her imagination with you're silly fibs."

"I never fib," Padmé protested. "I only… embellish a little."

"Well your little embellishments have woken me up every night for the past fortnight." She caught Padmé's gaze and the two shared a private smile.

Padmé loved these moments when the two of them could just be friends rather than the strict rigor of Princess and Handmaiden. For now it was just the two of them, the wind, the ocean and the enormous sky overhead that stretched to the horizon and infinity. But beyond that was Coruscant.

"This ship is called the Dove," Padmé said abruptly.

Sabé looked at her, bemused. "I know. I like the name. Fits the ship, don't you think?"

"I thought it did too, at first. But I've heard slave ships with similar titles – a charade to mask the gruesome truth below the decks." Padmé clasped her hands and narrowed her eyes at the horizon. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Sabé looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Coruscant's condescension and political malice are thinly veiled by its gleaming towers and high thrones. What if all this splendour and Palpatine's niceties are just a distraction from something bigger – more sinister?"

Sabé reached out a hand to her. "Padmé…"

"I don't trust him Sabé. I don't trust any of this."

"That's as may be, but we don't have any reason to believe Palpatine's proposal is anything but sincere. The people believe it is a good match which will ensure our country's safety."

Padmé nodded. "I'd risk what little trust in me they have and leave Naboo utterly defenseless against the Pirating Separatists. For Theed and my Kingdom it's the only path left."

"Besides that, we won't discover any conspiracy plots to overtake the Republic while hiding out in Naboo," Sabé smiled conspiratorially and squeezed Padmé's hand affectionately. "Leave the mystery to your Jedi friends. Go along with Palpatine's plans for now. He will slip up eventually."

"Perhaps…" Padmé sighed. "But I'm not so sure I'm such a great actress that I can live in the house of the man who killed my father and made outlaws of my friends."

Sabé stared at her hard, almost sternly. "You don't have to act."

Padmé looked alarmed. "Sabé…?"

The sound of approaching footsteps halted their conversation as the Captain of the Guard came aboard the ship, bowing deeply before them. Padmé's remaining handmaidens, Cordé and Rabé, stood behind him; the younger of the two edging further and further away from the sides of the ship.

"My Lady, we are set to sail at high noon," Panaka informed her. "I trust Sabé has discussed our protection program with you?"

"Protection program?" Padmé echoed. She tried to catch Sabé's gaze, but her friend refused to meet her eyes. "No… she has not."

Panaka looked a little vexed. "Well then, it looks like that is our primary objective." He glanced around at the ship's crew scattered across the deck with a measure of distrust. "But perhaps we're safer discussing it in a more private area."

Panaka offered his arm, but Padmé quickly raised her hand. "Captain Panaka, if you don't mind telling me what this is about -"

"Believe me your Highness when I say it's for your own good."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The rain began to fall in harsh stinging sheets of water, but not a drop of liquid touched the still figures perched on the high dais. Like vultures they stooped over the edge of the overhang, dark cloaks billowing in the gathering wind, hoods pulled high over their heads - faceless, aside from two shining white eyes which gleamed menacingly from fathomless dark sockets; all aside from one, who could have been mistaken for the Devil himself. His putrid yellow eyes took wide sweeps of the land below, observing the quaint little village in the Backwater plains.

Without a spoken word, the _Mare Esque_ leapt from their perch as one.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The pub was empty. The central room was cold and bleak with one small fire burning in a far corner, framed by a lopsided mantelpiece. A few tables dotted the bare floorboards, haphazardly covered with fraying tablecloths in a degree of various fading patterns. An icy draught blew under the door and through the cracks in the rotting window ledge where thin spider webs, long since abandoned, quivered in the icy breeze.

Obi-Wan raised a brow. "Homely," he muttered.

He edged inside, pulling the thick-furred collar of his coat up around his stubbled face and breathed into his cupped hands to keep warm. He had become accustomed to fearing the worst but he gratefully noted that there was no sign of a previous struggle in the little room.

A flicker of movement in a backroom suddenly caught his attention. The floorboards began to creak and groan under brisk, heavy footfalls and a plump little woman appeared in the doorway behind the bar. Her face was sharp and accusing in the luminous orange glow of the candelabra held in her hand.

"Yes?" she demanded shortly.

Obi-Wan bowed his head politely. "Madame, I am looking for a man named Dexter Jettster. I was lead to believe he was the proprietor of this establishment?"

"Now, there's a surprise," the elder woman remarked dryly and her shrewd, accusatory eyes looked him up and down in distaste. Obi-Wan felt quite suddenly self-conscious. It had been a while since he had taken a look in a mirror (or bathed for that matter).

"This way. Follow me," the little woman muttered curtly and turned abruptly away, moving at a brisk trot down a narrow passageway. Obi-Wan found he had to follow her at a half-jog in order to keep up.

The crooked building was much larger inside than it had appeared when he had first approached it. The corridor opened out onto a small hallway, sparsely yet tastefully decorated. A faded velvet blue armchair had been planted in stark contrast beside an elegantly carved bookcase crammed with dusty leather-bound books. An old grandfather clock stood at the foot of a narrow staircase; a great pillar of oak heavily carved with old runes that Obi-Wan suspected dated back to before the cultivation of the Jedi Order. He glanced at the intricately cut hands, both of which were pointing to the 9.

'_Quarter to. I'm early,'_ he thought with relief, '_I may even have a chance to get some rest before our meet.'_ He allowed himself to imagine how a soft bed and pillow stuffed with feathers would feel beneath his cramped and aching muscles.

"Do keep up Sir," the elder woman said, turning her humourless black eyes on him. "I have enough patrons downstairs to keep me on my feet all night so you'll understand when I say I have no time to lead you 'round the house on a guided tour."

"Yes Madame, I do apologise," Obi-Wan said and repressed the urge to smile at the little woman's animated manner. It was to be expected of Dexter Jettster to get involved with his polar opposite. As he recalled the Ogre appreciated a challenge.

They continued down a dimly lit corridor running parallel to the staircase. The blue floral wallpaper was dotted with framed photographs and brown watermarks. Obi-Wan glimpsed a pair of familiar brown eyes smiling out at him from behind a mess of curly dark locks and smooth glass.

At once a name popped into his head which he had not voiced in a long while. '_Astri.'_

"Down here, Sir, if you please," the woman motioned with a nod of her petite head to a cellar door which opened onto a precarious flight of stone steps. "Watch your feet Sir, these steps are a death trap. I keep tellin' him and all that man does is laugh it off. 'These steps have lasted near centuries and no one's so much as broken their neck on them', he says and I say his'll be the first!" she cursed and muttered under her breath. Shaking away Obi-Wan's offer of help, she attempted to hold her heavy skirts and the candelabra while at the same time grappling at the white-washed stone wall for support.

"Not even a blessed handrail!" Obi-Wan heard her add irritably.

The moment Obi-Wan stepped onto the dipping stone staircase a rush of noise and laughter rose up towards him, filling the air with a haze of smoke and warm light. From his viewpoint he could see the entire tavern spread out beneath him. All the fires were lit, roaring in the hearths, and patrons were spilling in through the back door demanding in loud buoyant voices tankards of beer and wine by the barrel.

"So this is the White Rabbit," Obi-Wan chuckled. It appeared the tavern's entrance, or bordello as it obviously appeared to function as one, had been tucked so cleverly away into the crooked back alleys of Slash City that is was practically impossible to find it if you did not know where to look.

The hot air stank of smoke and spices intermingled with a strong scent of various perfumes. Obi-Wan had the grace to blush as two young women in brightly coloured, revealing dresses motioned and smiled seductively towards him. He turned his face away and looked expectantly to the little old woman who was currently talking with a blonde, freckle-faced waiting-girl whose eyes kept sliding past to look at him. If he had felt self-conscious before it was nothing compared to how he felt standing in the middle of the tavern.

"Hermione, go and tell Dexter he has a visitor and check on the roast lamb for table 16. Waz will need a hand in the kitchens. It's going to be a busy night," the little woman spoke hurriedly then turned sharply back to Obi-Wan. "You'll find him over there near the fire," she pointed, "telling stories no doubt. If you want a girl that'll be 5 credits for an hour, 17 for the night." Her shrewd little eyes looked him up and down once more and she added, "and you'll want some stew and ale no doubt."

Obi-Wan smiled broadly. "Just the stew and ale for tonight, Madame."

She nodded her silver head shortly, a touch of humour glittering in her sharp black eyes, and took off around the large room stopping to bob at every other table. Obi-Wan thought the woman was quite bird-like in her mannerisms.

The smell of roasting lamb and vegetables was beginning to make his mouth water and his stomach growled; an audible reminder that he had not eaten since that morning's meal. A roar of laughter made him turn towards the main fireplace in the room where a large crowd was clustered around the hearth, listening intently to the familiar gruff voice of the Innkeeper. Dexter was a master storyteller and always commanded a person's complete attention. It had been a while since Obi-Wan had listened to one of Dexter's enchanting tales.

He strolled towards the fireplace where Dexter currently sat sprawled in an armchair, puffing on a long-stemmed pipe which he held in one large hand while his other three continued to assist him in his animated storytelling. A broad grin spread across the Innkeeper's face as he noticed Obi-Wan standing in the glow of the fire.

"Obi-Wan!" he bellowed.

Obi-Wan smiled and stepped forwards to greet him. "Hello Dex," he said.

"It's so good to see you my friend!" the old 'keeper stood to embrace him in all four of his burly arms. He held Obi-Wan away from him at arms length and looked him up and down, cheerfully surprised. "Well ah'll be! Jest look at tha'! Look at how tha' has grown! Last I saw thee, tha' were but a ruddy sapling! Now look at thee, look at thy beard!" he shook his head and tutted while settling back into his armchair. "Must mean the years are catchin' up to thyself too. Oi, Flint! Get outta that 'ere seat! This n's been travellin' fair far abroad. He'll be bloody knackered, give tha' lad a seat."

The man grumbled irritably but was quick to oblige. Obi-Wan thanked him as the man sauntered off in the direction of the bar before taking his seat opposite the four-armed Ogre.

"Ah was just sayin' to Jocasta and Astri there the other day, whatever 'appened to Qui-Gon an' Obi-Wan? Quite a pair were they. Always getting in an' out o' one scrap or another!" his eyes twinkled in delight. "Nobody said it but we was worried about thee. 'specially Astri."

"How is she?" Obi-Wan asked.

"She's well enough, but that rat of a husband 'o hers, Obi-Wan, she could do without," Dexter grumbled.

"Yes, I…" Obi-Wan's gaze shifted to the floor. "I heard she married."

"An' had a kid as well mind! What a lively little bugger he is, Astri loves 'im more than anythin' in the world. But ah'm sure she'll tell thee thysen'. She'll be in later, gone out to do some last minute shopping. Shops are all opened late 'cos of the Winter Festival. Been the busiest year yet, got customers comin' in from all over the country. Even abroad." He puffed on his long pipe. "But enough 'bout that. What can ah do thee for? Place to stay? Someone t' warm tha' bed?" he lowered his voice and bent closer. "Or do tha' respectable _Jedi _go in fer that?"

"Well," Obi-Wan began carefully, eyes twinkling. "I could not say the Order are entirely celibate."

"Only you, ah?" Dexter said with a deep, throaty chuckle.

"I'll stick to a stew tonight Dex," Obi-Wan replied with a smile as the young, freckled-faced waitress, Hermione, approached them. Gingerly she placed a tray laden with a platter of steaming roasted lamb and vegetables and two tankards full of ale on a low wooden table between the two chairs.

Obi-Wan breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread, cooked meat and garlic and thanked Hermione sincerely. The young girl's face flushed red with embarrassment and she curtsied quickly before hurrying away.

Dexter wagged a large finger at him. "Thysen' 'as already caught the attention of my prettiest waiting girls." The Ogre relaxed into his broad armchair and puffed carefully while Obi-Wan washed a mouthful of food down with the ale. "Say now, 'as thy got a family yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Obi-Wan replied indifferently.

"No? Time's pushin' on tho'," Dexter chuckled.

"Let's just say I've been a little preoccupied with current affairs."

A deep frown creased the Ogre's large forehead, "_Aye…_" he drew out. "Aye, ah knows all 'bout that. Ruddy pillocks. Ah'd be watchin' tha' back if ah were you Obi-Wan. Lott've new folk around these parts and they're comin' in 'ere and tha' knows folk talk. Bad business brewing abroad. Ah'd feel better if tha' would stay put awhile."

"I'm afraid I can't promise anything at the moment Dex. I'm awaiting some… friends." He held Dexter's gaze long enough until he was sure the old Ogre understood exactly what he meant.

"Ahhh," Dexter nodded and stroked his bristly chin, "ah see." He grinned. "Well if we're havin' more company, best get Jocasta to put some more stew on! We'll 'ave the finest brew this fair city 'as to offer – only the best for such esteem-ed guests, ay?"

"I'm sure they will appreciate that Dex." Obi-Wan wrung his hands together and gazed at the ticking clock above the fire anxiously. '_When they turn up.'_

******oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Anakin's mind was buzzing with excitement as he made his way through the narrow cobblestone lined backstreets towards the outskirts of the neighbouring village. The awkward size and weight of the two large kegs of ale did not bother him as it used to. Neither did the dimly lit streets and abnormally quiet households. A thousand and one adventures were racing through his young, impulsive mind.

The Winter Festival had already started in the Capital and throughout the larger towns. Perhaps Kit would even allow him to join in the festivities. Anakin had only attended the Winter Festival once when he was a lad, but now he remembered the life and music which had pulsed through the city streets: all the pretty girls in twirling skirts of a thousand colours, ministers and clerks dressed as jesters running and leaping shamelessly through the streets, the singing of bawdy songs and torch-lit processions. It was a festival of fools, a sparking off to enter the New Year in high spirits. Anakin desperately longed to see it all again.

He chuckled softly to himself and doubted he would get a wink of sleep that night. Suddenly, his sharp senses bristled at the rustle of heavy material behind him. He threw a cautious glance over his shoulder. The street was empty.

Anakin quickly turned on his heel and hurried along the road. He had been attacked once or twice before while ferrying Watto's ale back and forth between cellars. But he was an able opponent, a fact which had become well known throughout the neighbouring villages. Nevertheless, he picked up his pace, still feeling watched.

He felt a little more relieved once he had put a bit of distance between himself and the village. Clearing a hedge in one great bound, Anakin landed in a wide muddy field which separated the two villages. Glancing backwards to make sure he wasn't being followed, he began to traverse the muddy field. The icy drops of rain which trickled down his collar and slid down his back did not deter him. Over the turf he slogged, dragging his feet through the mud as the rain pelted his face. The feeling of being watched still lingered however. As he approached a tall standing stone on a rise in the middle of the field he made up his mind to turn the tables on his prowler, quickly leapt behind it. No common lout would soil his good temper.

Anakin held his breath and waited. After several minutes he dared to peer around the side of the Megalith, half expecting to see some hulking, great rune beast lumbering across the plain towards him. But there was not a sole to be seen.

Anakin sighed, exasperated with himself and shook the beads of water from his hair as he continued on his way. He was feeling very sheepish now. What would Kit have to say? Such an accomplished explorer would have no use for a coward on his adventures. _And what in Sun's name would you do if you really did encounter a rune beast? _Anakin scoffed at his own cowardice-

-and froze suddenly. He had passed this way countless times before and never had he seen a standing stone in the middle of the field.

Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, he turned around. Where the Megalith stood only moments ago now towered a giant of a man half hidden in shadow.

******oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Before anymore people ask, Hermione is the blonde waitress you see serving in the background when Obi-Wan talks with Dexter in AOTC. I looked her name up on the Star Wars com databanks. She has no links to Harry Potter whatsoever!! XD

** Nikki92:** Glad you're enjoying the story. I'm really sorry I've, er, bumped Siri off though.

**Trinity Day: **Thank-you very much. Don't worry, "Legend" certainly hasn't been abandoned – I'm having too much fun writing it. I keep delving into my old Scottish/Irish folktales books for ideas. I'm part way through the next chapter and I know where the story's going now.

**ShalBrenfan: **Haha, thanks – next chapter's on it's way!

**Jenny: **Thank-you. Oops, I suppose I've given you a bit of a cliff-hanger there. I'll remedy that ASAP.

**"an interested fan":** No worries, like I said I'm enjoying writing this far too much to simply abandon it. It has a long way to go yet. Hope you enjoyed this chapter : )

Thank-you all for the great reviews. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to…well suggest them


	6. The Giant and the Warren

**A/N:** I have to admit, though I'm well aware my grammar is not up to scratch, I really enjoy writing this fanfic. It's so easy and fun to write! There are a great many things which prevent me from updating my fanfiction as often as I should, and I can only beg forgiveness and offer to buy you a pint down at _the King's Ransom_ :D

**Chapter Six  
**The Giant and the Warren

"What business does a boy have skulking in the dead of night?" the giant spoke. "Gone to refill his Master's cup, I suppose."

Anakin found that he could not reply. Terror had an icy grip on his heart and rendered his limbs utterly useless. His every sense was overflowing with the power protruding in great waves from this man – this _giant_.

"If you were to take some advice from an old drifter such as myself I would not deliver the King's Ransom this night, Master Skywalker."

Life quickly returned to Anakin's arms and legs and at once he took up a menacing stance, glaring spitefully at the man half hidden in shadow. "Who are you that knows my name?" he demanded. "And explain your following me? I warn you'll have a hard task capturing these!"

"I have no desire for two drums of ale." The giant began to advance towards him.

Anakin stood his ground though fear gripped his heart like a vice. Who was this vagrant that knew his name and able to change his very form at will? In his bones Anakin knew what he was of course - a Sorcerer and conjuror of dark arts. He looked just like the sort to have a Dark Tower on a high hill somewhere in the wild woodlands beyond the Backwater plains. He shivered at the thought. '_This must be the fellow in the tavern Watto spoke of_'.'

Anakin staggered backwards. "What do you want then?"

"Seems to reason the lonely rover boasts fools' nerve," the giant's voice was as calm and cool as the breeze, "and yet fear consumes him."

Anakin could see the man's warm breath rise up into the cool air. "I'm not afraid," he bit back, though the courage behind his words seemed to drift away with his breath.

The giant ignored him. "A little courage and a lot of fear is barely a defence against the wolves when they run," he sighed, his tone sad and regretful. "And I'm afraid the tick of the hand has beaten your green tailed friend, for they are already in the village." Now it seemed as though the stranger were talking to himself.

"Stop your bloody riddles and tell me what you're on about!" Anakin cried angrily before the stranger's description of the Nautolan clicked in his head. "Wait, Kit? Do you mean Kit? Kit was too late for what? Tell me who is in the village?" Anakin flustered. "What wolves? And who are you!"

The giant's laughter was low and hollow. "Forgive me young Master, but when you wander alone for so long you forget that time and tide wait for no man and age makes the wheels creak." His blazing bright eyes flashed in their sockets. "But you must fly tonight Master Skywalker, for time and tide won't slow the run of the Mare."

Anakin thrust his chin out and scowled fiercely. The twin barrels were quickly forgotten and fell to the ground with a thud as he clenched his fists together.

"No, please, Sir," he bit, venomously. "I won't be flying anywhere, whoever you are."

The giant allowed himself a second dry chuckle and replied, "Perhaps you would delight in a test of strength against the Mare Esque, young Master?"

"I would better enjoy a test against you first!" Anakin exclaimed and leapt recklessly towards the giant, but before he could even raise a fist he connected with an invisible wall which threw him from his feet and sent him crashing into an undignified heap on the ground.

"Perhaps," the stranger spoke softly, "we will gather our thoughts?" He did not wait for an answer. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn and I am a friend."

Anakin rubbed the base of his skull, trying not to ponder too much on what had just happened. "And do you always greet your friends like this, sir?" he spat scathingly.

Once more he went ignored. "I am a Jedi Knight, travelled from the Great Temple on the far skirts of the southern quadrant." The elder man bent towards him and for the first time Anakin could see his features. "You must accept my help Master Skywalker, for we need yours."

With those words Anakin's boyish curiosity was instantly ensnared. "My help? What could Jedi possibly want my help with? And anyway I thought the Jedi disbanded years ago. The Guardians were run out of Naboo, weren't they?"

"Not entirely," Qui-Gon Jinn drew away from the boy, heaving a heavy sigh. Anakin turned to take a proper look at the man. He definitely had the look of a hero from his chiselled features, protruding brow and strong nose, to his towering height and broad shoulders. He briefly wondered if the man really had giant blood in him. Everything about him spoke strength but for his eyes, which showed the tiresome stress of battles long fought and inner scars yet to heal.

Anakin's eyes widened as they caught sight of a small, hand-carved object hanging from the man's belt.

"Could it be a...that couldn't be a..." he stuttered incredulously."Why it's a lightsaber! _Wizard_..." For a tech-minded youth as he was the intricate mechanisms of the legendary sword of light fascinated Anakin to no end, as it had countless others for centuries.

But as Qui-Gon's hand fell upon it, he quickly shook himself out of his reverie.

"Well, you could have picked that up anywhere." Dusting his hands off, Anakin picked up his fallen barrels and began to stride away. This was all too good to be true and there were journeys waiting to be ventured with Kit Fisto; exploits and adventures he would never see if he did not return with Watto's ale in time.

"Master Skywalker," the giant called.

"Look, I'm very sorry," Anakin interjected, though his tone was somewhat softer as his opinion of the vagabond had turned from wicked sorcerer to that of a wandering Showman left out in the cold one night too long. "But I'm afraid other business ventures have opened up for me and I have no more time to listen to tall tales," he said turning on his heel haughtily and marching down the sloping field. "I get enough of those from Watto."

When he received no reply Anakin threw a subtle glance over his shoulder, surprised that the professed Jedi Knight had stopped in his pursuit so soon. He was even considering inviting the old man for a swift draught at the King's Ransom, for by his ramblings Anakin guessed he had been a common patron of theirs. But his gaze was met with naught but the field – no standing stone nor self-proclaimed Jedi in sight.

Anakin sincerely hoped his earlier excitement hadn't driven him round the bend.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Obi-Wan Kenobi stopped at the bottom of a narrow flight of stairs, his eyes searching along the dimly lit corridor. The White Rabbit appeared to be a warren of twisting tunnels and secret lairs, its lower levels, lit by rush lights glimmering softly in their gold-plated stands, fulfilling the more carnal desires of its customers. The sound of skin smacking against skin followed him up the red-carpeted corridor, made the colour rise in his cheeks.

Obi-Wan stopped by a door at the foot of the hall, pressed his ear against it to make doubly sure he wouldn't be interrupting one of Jettster's customers, and hoped against hope that no one would see him.

"Obi-Wan?" a familiar voice queried.

Obi-Wan spun around, a guilty look on his face. "Astri!" he exclaimed in alarm, then cleared his throat and inclined his head toward her. "Madame Divian. I'm sorry, this isn't… I realise what this may look like, but I can assure you it's nothing of the sort. I was merely -"

"Obi-Wan, if I believed for a moment that you were doing what it _appeared_ you were doing, I would surely have died of a heart attack," Astri replied, her smile as bright and vivacious as it had appeared in her photograph upstairs.

Obi-Wan's face brightened. "I only wanted to make sure I wasn't about to interrupt any of your customers," he said raising his eyebrows, "who sound quite satisfied, if it should please you to hear."

"All our customers are satisfied here, Master Kenobi," Astri replied and ushered him into his designated room. "Come, this is hardly the place for old peers to rekindle a friendship."

Once inside the room Obi-Wan settled himself on a pile of luxuriously soft cushions situated by the hearth, while Astri set about lighting the fire and preparing the tea.

"Madame Divian, there's no need to busy yourself with supper. Dexter saw to it that I was adequately fed and watered earlier."

Astri's eyes sparked with amusement. "No decent conversation can be executed without the aid of tea and cake, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan conceded. "You've grown into quite a lady, Madame."

"Please stop addressing me as such, Obi-Wan. All these formalities!" she huffed indignantly, "they have no place amongst friends."

As Astri busied herself about the fireplace, Obi-Wan took the opportunity to make a study of the face he had missed so dearly. The stress of juggling business, a family and Dexter Jettster, who had a penchant for befriending the seedier walks of life, had not taken its toll on her beautiful bright eyes he was delighted to see, for he had always favoured her smile above everything. Sturdily built, Astri was not stout rather than pleasantly plump and she carried her weight well, her rosy cheeks adding to her overall youthful prettiness. In his eyes, she had only grown more beautiful.

Easing his cramped muscles into the piled cushions, Obi-Wan continued to observe her beneath half-lidded eyes as she pushed back the curling ends of her brown hair and kneeled back on her heels to evaluate the fire's slow progress.

Madame Jocasta, after learning from Dexter who Obi-Wan was, had at once ushered him into a hot bath, promising that his steed and belongings, what meagre possessions he owned, would be taken care of. The sensation of the soft hooded robe he now wore against his skin was quite soothing. Obi-Wan soon felt himself begin to doze off, but was awakened by Astri who had reached up to curl her hand tenderly over his cheek.

"Would you prefer it if we talked later?" she asked, smiling gently.

Obi-Wan at once sat up. "No, of course not, Astri. Forgive my discourtesy."

Her warm, enthusiastic laughter filled him more completely than Madame Nu's celebrated Bantha stew.

"Obi-Wan, you've become so proper! Even now as you lie across the floor, you look like a Coruscanti aristocrat or a Prince of Alderaan! Surely this cannot be Qui-Gon's doing?"

"No indeed, but you aren't too far off the mark with the Prince of Alderaan, I confess." He responded with a broad smile, which lit the blue in his dark eyes. "For the past three years I've been working undercover with the Loyalist Committee in Capital Alder. My dealings brought me into partnership with Bail Organa, who acquired an alias for me by name of '_Earl of Crebasse'_." He took the offered cup of tea from Astri's hands, grinning. "No doubt you'll find that amusing."

"I will treasure the image of you, frilled, high collared and painted like a doll, 'til the day I die," she assured him and her playful eyes sparked with merriment.

They talked for a while, Obi-Wan inquiring into Astri's new family and carefully avoiding the subject of her marriage, which she seemed perfectly happy to comply with. Her long, curly hair hung loose around her shoulders as she leant into him, relating stories of her energetic son, Lune, who Obi-Wan could tell she loved dearly.

The scent of her hair and skin, and the full smile of her lips captivated him completely, and more than once he found himself lost in their conversation. Astri, naïve as she was, appeared completely oblivious to the affections he held for her.

"Well I am completely impressed," he said using a break in their conversation as an excuse to break their nearness.

"At my great parenting skills?" she asked him.

"At your great ability at keeping our dear Dexter away from the Hangman's noose," Obi-Wan replied, stroking his short beard. "It amazes me that the Inn has escaped the notice of the constabulary for so long."

Astri took a breath and continued, carefully. "The law in these parts is somewhat _unlawful_, Obi-Wan. These days the Magistrate is as corrupt as the condemned man frogmarched to the gallows. Naboo's current lack of an authoritative figurehead, the Separatists, the Hutts – it seems there is no room for rules or regulations in today's world."

For a second, Obi-Wan glimpsed the light in her eyes fade a little and his heart sank. There was a change in Astri after all. She had lost much hope in the years following King Amidala's death and the Guardian's disbandment.

Astri glanced up into his eyes, found the sadness and regret there. "I am sorry Obi-Wan. I shouldn't trouble you anymore than you already are. I hate to think of you out there, running and hiding like a crook." She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed it affectionately. "You should get some rest now before more of your unruly sort come traipsing mud into my clean hallway."

"Yes, I think perhaps you are right."

She smiled and he answered likewise. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly.

Astri allowed him to hold her hand there a moment longer than was necessary. She, in the years they had been apart, may not have changed much in physical appearance, but Obi-Wan certainly had. His eyes were deeper set and now teal in colour and his short, straw-coloured beard could not hide the strength in his chin and jaw line. From the thin, scrawny apprentice of Qui-Gon Jinn, had emerged a Jedi Knight.

She had never studied him in such a way before and felt quite suddenly overwhelmed by a queer and unfamiliar flurry of emotions.

"Astri, you look quite perplexed," Obi-Wan said his tone humorous.

"For all your questions, Obi-Wan, you have carefully avoided the topic of my former occupation," she replied, her tone almost stern.

"I saw no need to." Obi-Wan looked at her intently. "I don't recall ever taking advantage of that particular talent, Madame."

They exchanged a long, thoughtful look.

"No," she replied, pensively. "You never did."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The rain had cleared, replaced by a thick, ghostly mist, which settled around the village at the bottom of the dale. The temperature had dropped so suddenly that Anakin could already begin to see a light frost creeping over the slippery tops of the cobblestones and crooked rooftop slates. There was no friendly orange lamplight glow, nor a sound to be heard from the surrounding neighbourhood, which made his way through the winding streets, thick with the gathering fog, considerably more difficult.

Anakin cursed as he skidded on the slippery stones for the umpteenth time. Why was it taking so long to get back? Surely he couldn't be lost. He knew these streets as well as he knew his mother's face.

When at last he stumbled upon the steps of _the King's Ransom_, no welcoming curses of intoxicated patrons, waiting in anticipation of his arrival, came to greet him. Anakin sighed irritably and blamed his misfortunes and tardiness on the would-be Jedi Sorcerer. He set one keg down on the narrow pavement to knock on the door of the Inn, only to find it had been left ajar.

'_That's odd.'_

Confusion scrambled his thoughts. Watto was usually very careful when it came to locking up the tavern. In fact, the Toydarian's anxiety had verged on paranoia.

Blood drained from Anakin's face when his wandering gaze caught the broken window through the silver haze of mist. He dropped the second keg and burst through the open door with such force that it swung around to hit the wall where the bells fell to the floor with a dull clang.

The room was in upheaval. Plates and mugs of ale, tables and chairs and food; all had been tossed and hurled across the room amidst four bodies lying cold and still upon the bare floorboards. The last glowing embers in the fireplace tinged their expressionless faces with red.

Fear gripped Anakin's throat like a clammy hand as he crept closer to inspect the bodies. He recognised each of them, could even call them by name: two of Watto's sabacc cohorts, Aldar Beedo and Ben Quadinaros; Kitster's father, the large and silent Corellian trader Rakir Banai; one of the pretty waiting girls, Aimee, who had had a growing crush on him for two years. Slowly, he bent down to touch her shoulder gently. There was a little dried blood on her forehead and a darkening bruise on her cheek. Otherwise she looked fine. But he did not have to search for a pulse to know she was dead.

Anger saturated his blood like poison.

"Boy?" a familiar raspy voice called out, breaking the empty silence. "Boy? Is that you?"

Anakin leapt to his feet, his eyes searching the large room frantically. "Watto!" he cried anxiously. "Where are you? Where is my mother? Where's Kit!"

"I'm behind the bar," Watto paused a long moment. "I don't know where your mother is. Kit went after them."

Anakin grimaced. It shouldn't have surprised him really. At the first sign of trouble Watto would more often than not turn tail and hide. When he came around the side of the wooden structure, however, his heart lurched at the sight of the Toydarian. Watto lay in an awkward position on the floor. His wings were broken and one of his long yellowing tusks had been severed. His skin was pale and tinged with a white, powdery substance and anger brewed in his shrewd, yellow eyes.

"What happened?" Anakin asked, struggling for breath as he knelt down beside the Tavern Keeper.

"What does it look like 'appened, uh?" Watto snapped irritably. "Don't just stand there boy, help me up."

Anakin knelt at the ill-tempered Tavern Keeper's side, sliding one arm under his shoulders and another under his back - quelching the alarm and fear that flooded him at the touch of Watto's cold skin - so he could carry him safely without fear of injuring him further. Carefully, he moved back around the bar to the main room where he laid his Master down on one of the two upturned armchairs beside the fireplace.

"But who did this?" Anakin pressed gently as he noted the great gashes in the seat of the chair.

Watto's eyes slid towards the youth's face with a strange look, somewhere between relief and puzzlement, as if he'd found the answer to a riddle that didn't quite satisfy him.

"I knew you'd be a handful boy. When I took you in, I knew it wasn't worth a half-penny. What profit could I gain from a no-talent runt?" He muttered disdainfully and Anakin got the feeling he was talking to himself. "But I did, an' that's what counts. Hope the gatekeeper keeps that in mind when I greet him," Watto added gruffly and closed his eyes.

Anakin's heart stopped. "Watto!" he grabbed the creature's shoulders and shook him frantically. "Don't go to sleep, you must stay awake. You must tell me where my mother is!"

"What isa wrong with you boy?" Watto spat suddenly in half-disgust. "Ah'm a dyin' here! Can't you see that, you muskrat of a cheese-block?"

A deep frown creased Anakin's smooth features. "You're not dying," he stated, quite sullenly.

"That isa news to me." Watto retorted, coughing feebly. "Thoughtless boy. Reckless boy. What time do you call this anyway, ah?"

"Won't you tell me happened?" Anakin repeated.

"Isn't it obvious what happened? Doesn't it look like Tusken-work?" Watto said, sweeping the ransacked room with one frail arm.

But somehow Anakin got the feeling his master wasn't telling him the whole truth. Very little had been stolen. The moneybox had not been touched and neither, he noticed uneasily, had the beer supply. He gave Watto a long, scrutinising look. The Toydarian did not meet his gaze.

Anakin's fingers dug into his thighs and he heaved a sigh of frustration. "I'm going to look for my mother."

"No you won't boy."

"And why not?"

"What am I ah to do? Am I expected to share my deathbed accompanied by three stiffs, ah? You ungrateful trouser-ferret," Watto argued, his tone indignant.

"There are four. And if you won't tell me what happened to my mother and Kit, then I'll have to find them by myself." He stood at once to his feet before hesitating and turning around to face his master. "And you're not dying!" he added crossly.

"Annie," Watto desperately grabbed Anakin's trouser-leg as he stood to his feet, "you cannot follow them."

"Why not?" Anakin demanded, his tone more harsh than he had meant.

Watto's feeble grip loosened on the fraying hem of the trouser-leg, his expression pained. "Stupid boy. _Thoughtless_ boy. That is precisely what they want you to do."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**A/N**: Guys, I would so appreciate feedback from you! It's all I have (sob)

**dmitchell:** Thank-you, as I live in Scotland (and study History), my writing tends to be influenced a great deal by old folklore and Scottish history. Although, Legend's not meant to be too serious and doesn't follow the wars of independence as strictly as it probably should. Really I'm just writing a good ol' fantasy romp!  
**  
ShalBrenfan:** Sweet! Thanks for the comments and for being such a loyal reader!  
**  
ScrewtheJediCode786:** Hehe, sorry again for the lack of updates. Hope this one pleased you, cheers mate!  
**  
Mmfcfa:** Thank-you! …uhm, hope seven months wasn't too long a wait…

**Tamara:** Cheers! Hehe, the man watching Anakin in the tavern was actually Darth Maul (head of the Mare Esque). I wrote that scene as a deliberate reference to Lord of the Rings. A lot of people have questioned me about Hermione (thought they might). Fortunately to some, unfortunately to others, the story is not a Harry Potter & Star Wars crossover. Hermione is the official name of the blonde waitress you see in Dexter Jettster's café on Coruscant, in AOTC. I looked her name up on the Star Wars. com databanks. I'll see if I can do anything with Siri, but for now I don't really have a place for her in the story. Anyways, thank-you so much for your lengthy review! I'm very glad to hear you're hooked! Hope you enjoyed this chapter )

**Erianna Abyss:** Have already chatted away to you, but I'd like to say thanks again for the fab review!


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